Heritage of Shannara 1 – The Scions of Shannara by Brooks, Terry

second time by passageways that ran beneath the city and the

cliffs backing the old palace to the cellars beneath. Those pas-

sageways might still exist, giving us access to the ravine from

the palace side.”

Coil looked away wordlessly, disgust registering on his blocky

features. Cleariy, he had hoped for better than this from Dam-

son.

Par hesitated, then said carefully, “That all happened more

than four hundred years ago. I had forgotten about those pas-

sageways completely-even telling the stories as often as I do.”

He hesitated again. “Do you know anything about them-where

they are, how to get into them, whether they can be traversed

anymore?”

Damson shook her head slowly, ignoring the deliberate lift of

Coil’s eyebrows. She said, “But I know someone who might. If

he will talk to us.” Then she met Coil’s gaze and held it. There

was a sudden softness in her face that surprised Par. “We all

have a right to make our own choices,” she said quietly.

Coil’s eyes seemed haunted. Par studied his brother momen-

tarily, debating whether to say anything to him, then turned

abruptly to Damson. “Will you take me to this person-

tonight?”

She stood up then, and both Valemen rose with her. She

looked small between them, almost delicate; but Par knew the

perception was a false one. She seemed to deliberate before

saying, “That depends. ‘You must first promise me something.

When you go back into the Pit, however you manage it, you will

take Coil and me with you.”

There was a stunned silence. It was hard to tell which of the

Valemen was more astonished. Damson gave them a moment

to recover, then said to Par, “I’m not giving you any choice in

the matter, I’m afraid. I cannot. You would feel compelled to

do the right thing and leave us both behind to keep us safe-

which would be exactly the wrong thing. You need us with you.’

The she turned to Coil. “And we need to be there. Coil.

Don’t you see? This won’t end, any of it, not Federation op-

pression or Shadowen evil or the sickness that infects all the

Lands, until someone makes it end. Par may have a chance to

do that. But we cannot let him try it alone. We have to do

whatever we can to help because this is our fight, too. We cannot

just sit back and wait for someone else to come along and help

us. No one will. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that.”

She waited, looking from one to the other. Coil looked con-

fused, as if he thought there ought to be an obvious alternative

to his choices but couldn’t for the life of him recognize what it

was. He glanced briefly at Par and away again. Par had gone

blank, his gaze focused on the floor, his face devoid of expres-

sion.

“It is bad enough that I must go,” he said finally.

“Worse than bad,” Coil muttered.

Par ignored him, looking instead at Damson. “What if it

turns out that only I can go in? ”

Damson came up to him, took his hands in her own and

squeezed them. “That won’t happen. You know it won’t.” She

leaned up and kissed him softly. “Are we agreed?”

Par took a deep breath, and a frightening sense of inevitability

welled up inside him. Coil and Damson Rhee-he was risking

both their lives by going after the Sword. He was being stubborn

beyond reason, intractable to the point of foolhardiness; he was

letting himself be caught up in his own self-perceived needs and

ambitions. There was every reason to believe that his insistence

would kill them all.

Then give it up, he whispered fiercely to himself. Just walk

away.

But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t.

“Agreed,” he said.

There was a brief silence. Coil looked up and shrugged.

“Agreed,” he echoed quietly.

Damson reached up to touch Par’s face, then stepped over to

Coil and hugged him. Par was more than a little surprised whsn

his brother hugged her back.

XXV

It was dusk on the following day when Padishar Creel and

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